


Tricks and Treats

by robotfvckers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Closet Sex, Cultist Tekhartha Zenyatta, Cultist!zenyatta, Dirty Talk, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sentai Genji Shimada, Sexual Roleplay, Sort Of, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, but they aren't drunk, haha - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 12:17:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12581720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotfvckers/pseuds/robotfvckers
Summary: Zenyatta goes all out for Overwatch's halloween party, and Genji can't help but notice. Happy Halloween!





	Tricks and Treats

****Genji has been staring ever since his master entered the room.

He stands at the snack table next to Jesse and Lúcio, only half-listening as they converse with his master. Zenyatta had wanted his costume to be a surprise, so they arrived separately. Last year’s had been adorable, a painted skull faceplate with narrow yellow optics; even as they traveled, Zenyatta had found a way to celebrate. This year, with the consistent housing and bankroll of Overwatch, he had made an effort with his own sentai costume, but Zenyatta had him beat.

Genji wishes he would’ve had the chance to prepare for his master’s costume. His new appendages are...distracting. They writhe in slow, even motions, quickening when Zenyatta laughs, the cute chiming sounds tingling up his spine as they always did.

“Zen, that’s one interesting mask you got on.” Jesse drawls, tipping back a cup of the orange spiked punch, not his first if his flush is anything to go by. “Reminds me of one of those kinky cartoons.”

Lúcio chokes on his candied popcorn, and Genji stills as warnings ping on his HUD, scant degrees from steaming his vents.

“Oh, it is no mask. I had it installed this afternoon with a new intake chamber in order to enjoy Hana’s gift.”

Zenyatta takes another sip of said present, a specialty oil that functions as omnic liquor. The tentacles twist around the straw, wiggling and caressing mindlessly as his master drinks. Genji hadn’t been able to look away the entire night, _intake chamber_ echoing in his mind.

“May I?” Jesse extends his hand.

His master _emotes_ , eyebrows narrowing coyly as he nods. Genji’s plastic cup crackles in his hand, mouth dry, as his friend reaches forward. The tentacles react immediately, the tip of one touching Jesse’s finger, twisting around its base, tugging it into the mass of other curious tentacles that explore his hand.

Jesse whistles. “I’ll be. Not slimy like they look. Kinda tickles though.”

The loud, sudden hiss of steam turns the heads of all three companions, and Genji stammers, what little of his drink left spilling down his fingers as the container breaks.

“I...I have to go. Need another drink.”

Zenyatta’s never seen his student move so quickly out of battle.

“I am also in need of refreshment. Please excuse us.”

Lúcio gapes as Zenyatta moves past Hana without flagging her down, following his student’s footsteps.

“Did that just happen?” 

Jesse pats his shoulder. “Sure did.” He replies with his easy, lopsided grin, taking another long pull of his drink.

* * *

A burst of steam greets him when he finds Genji inside a closet not far from the din of the party, hand shoved inside his suit. He looks positively scandalized, shoulders rucked up and head tossed back, even though his mask remains firmly in place. 

“I am so pleased you like the costume, my student.” Zenyatta says, mischief in each syllable, more capricious from the oil, processes sluggish and warm. Genji’s mask muffles his startled moan as Zenyatta grasps his student’s stroking hand, feeling his heat through the spandex. “Though I am saddened that you started without me.”

“Zenyatta, please—”

The monk shushes him, leaning down to close the scant inch that separates their heights, tentacles brushing the side of Genji’s helmet and throat as he whispers.

“We will be discovered if we cannot remain quiet.” Zenyatta taps the bottom of Genji’s mask with a clawed finger, and Genji swallows. “Open up.”

Genji releases his mask, the bottom compartment shifting up and away. He gasps into the hot, damp air, heart pattering as Zenyatta’s tentacles shift into the newly revealed space.

His green eyes tilt down, glowing in the low light, and Genji sucks his scarred lower lip between his teeth. Watching his master’s eyes track along his body is a new experience, and it dizzies him more than the drink he had.

Zenyatta tugs at Genji’s wrist, forcing his hand from around the base of his already throbbing cock. His master fills its absence immediately, cupping him through the skin tight fabric, mapping the hard outline with the tips of his claws.

“So needy here, Green Sentai.” The tentacles trace the edges of Genji’s helmet, so close to Genji’s lips he feels the subtle buzz of their warmth. “What would the adoring public think if they saw you so helpless in the hands of your arch nemesis?”

Genji wants to laugh, wants to voice a well worded retort; he can do neither as a smooth tentacle drags against his lower lip from edge to edge, then back again, tugging the sensitive flesh.

“Oh, fu— _mph_ —” Emboldened, more tentacles slide forward, caressing his lips, his chin, the column of his throat, dipping into his mouth with warm, playful presses.

The smoothness of them slicken with his saliva as they trace his gums and teeth. One urges deeper, massaging his tongue, like Zenyatta is _kissing_ him, and his heart races, hands fisting into his master’s cloak, tugging him closer.

Zenyatta laughs quietly as he works the tight fabric of Genji’s suit down to rest just beneath the swell of his balls. His hand encloses around Genji’s cock, and his student groans, tongue lashing against the tentacle mapping his mouth.

“What a shameful hero.” Zenyatta murmurs, though distantly he feels his master’s desire pressed into the padding of his thigh. “Rutting into his enemy’s grip.”

The tentacles surge, more joining the first, and it’s less like a kiss, filthier, the wiggling undulations nudging his palate, forcing Genji to swallow. Drool trails down the swell of his lip, and his eyelashes flutter as Zenyatta’s eyes brighten, hungrily drinking in the sight of him fucking his student’s mouth, glowing and wriggling and stretching his jaw to the brink. Zenyatta grinds harder, enticed by the burning flush along Genji’s cheeks, how each time he lets him breathe Genji moans, fucked out and rough like he’s rarely heard him, how eagerly, greedily he sucks his tentacles, laving the undersides as he hollows his cheeks.

“Genji.” Zenyatta hisses, and Genji’s cock throbs in his hand, pre coating his fingers and dripping onto the floor between them, easing each hot stroke, Genji chasing the teasing hand when he tugs it away.

The tentacles recede with a wet, thick pop, tips tracing the slick, swollen expanse of Genji’s mouth, but Genji chases, tries and fails to capture the appendages again, helmet clattering to the floor in his struggle.

Zenyatta groans at the sight: Genji’s eyes, heavy and blackened with lust, nearly unseeing in his pleasure. His gasps, hard and quick, ring loud in the small space when Zenyatta drops to his knees.

“Quiet, Green Sentai.” Zenyatta orders, and Genji is loud, even muffled by his hand, as Zenyatta’s tentacles descend upon his cock.

Zenyatta himself is almost past teasing, tentacles circling the base of his cock and around his balls, locking down with a slick press, knowing Genji is seconds from coming. Genji whines, high and needy, the threat of orgasm receding with the firm pressure as he begs into his hand.

He nearly hesitates, unsure of his new, strange mouth, unused to the sensation of it, of feeling, tasting, the warmth of the oil still heavy within his chestplate. He shakes his head, and his tentacles part, his segmented tongue catching the slit of Genji’s cock. The gentle taste of salt, the foreign concept now known, blooms on his tongue as he swirls it around his glans, sinking down on his student’s cock with new fervor when Genji swears, clutching Zenyatta’s hood in his free hand.

“M-master, _oh_ —”

And Zenyatta doesn’t chide him, not when he’s moaning hard himself, the vibrations of it ricocheting up Genji’s body. He needs only release his vice grip, tentacles gone soft, stroking instead of restricting, and Genji tightens, jackknifing forward as he cries out, broken and open-mouthed, a hot burst of steam shooting from his vents.

In the seconds before his student loses himself, Zenyatta, pleased and curious, leans back, works his tentacles like slippery hands, appendages parting to catch the first hot bursts of spend upon his waiting tongue, milking Genji’s cock with shallow, teasing circles.

Genji’s eyes bore into his, and he bites his lower lip so hard that Zenyatta senses the iron in the air. With a grunt, he shoves Zenyatta’s head down, spilling the rest onto the writhing, wet silk of his tongue, stunning Zenyatta with its taste, the new, astounding sensations of feedback vibrating through his processors.

He pulls back when Genji finally releases his head, stroking his cheek as Zenyatta gasps, trying to dispel the overwhelming influx of feedback.

“I-is that...all? I expected more from my arch nemesis…” Genji breathes, fucked out but undeniably cocky.

Zenyatta chuckles, letting Genji help him to his feet before he flips Genji over, pressing his overheated front to Genji’s back.

“My evil plan has only just begun,” his master returns, shifting his robes apart.


End file.
